


Only Human

by SevielCiel



Series: Hospital AU [2]
Category: The Beatles (Band)
Genre: Angst, Character Death, Crying, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, Implied Terminal Illness, M/M, Men Crying, Physical Disability, Terminal Illnesses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-05
Updated: 2020-02-05
Packaged: 2021-02-19 11:35:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22577077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SevielCiel/pseuds/SevielCiel
Summary: John spends his last day with his best friend and soulmate, Paul
Relationships: John Lennon & Paul McCartney, John Lennon/Paul McCartney (implied)
Series: Hospital AU [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1647403
Comments: 8
Kudos: 44





	Only Human

Paul McCartney had all but ran out of the school, his bag hardly banging onto his back as he ran through the busy streets.

He needed to arrive quickly to his best friend's house.

He arrived at the front door panting and with beads of sweat trailing down his forehead, still panting as his knuckles hit the wooden front door.

"Oh, Paul! It's you!" 

His big doe like eyes looked up at the auster sight of Mimi Smith, who didn't look as cruel as usual.

Her dark eyes were tired and her usually tidy tied hair was loose, curling around her shoulders and framing her face.

She was holding a small needle in her hand, Paul's eyes locking onto it.

"Oh, don't worry, Paul. I don't want to stab you" she joked, stepping aside to let the young boy enter the house.

He stepped inside, politely asking Mimi if he could go upstairs.

"Here before you go" she said, handing him a tray, "see if you manage to make him eat a bit. It's more of a war than usual" she sighed.

"I see what I can do" he answered, already making his way upstairs.

As he got closer to the door of his best friend's bedroom, dread started crawling up his skin, making him shiver.

He didn't know what to expect behind that door.

He was actually really scared of the conditions he could found his best mate, the boy who was basically an older brother to him.

He waited a moment to relax himself, before slowly opening the door, wincing at the loud cracking sounds it made.

He entered, temporarily blinded by the pitch darkness of the room.

"Johnny?" he whispered, walking closer towards the bed.

The small room, full of posters of singers, seemed more gloomy. Through the sweet scent of vanilla, the smell of amptyseptich was lingering, like a cruel reminder.

He looked over the bed, his eyes now used to the dark, and spotted his best mate's body, his thin frame huddled under heavy blankets.

He tiptoed closer, until he could perfectly see John's face and sighed sadly.

Elvis, John's black cat, was loyaly laying on the bed, just on John's legs, purring softly, almost as he was comforting the boy, 'I'm here, John, you're not alone' seemed to say his dark cat eyes.

"Oh, Johnny…" he whispered, eyes getting teary.

Suddenly, brown slanted eyes opened slowly, a small groan leaving thin lips.

John blinked wearily for a bit, before a hand came up to his head, a louder groan leaving his lips again.

"Hey, Johnny" greeted sadly Paul, setting the food tray on the nightstand, near loads of pills bottles.

"Hi, Paulie" he greeted back, a small grin stretching his lips.

Paul's heart clenched with pain; he thought he was used by now at the sight of John.

Of his best mate so frail and pale and, worst thing, in pain.

He knew, and knew that John knew, his conditions could only worsen as time passed, there wasn't anything anyone could do.

Not at least until a transplant.

Everyone close to John had tested themselves, even Paul, but no one was compatible.  
The waiting list was very long and John had been on it since he was 15.

He was now 19.

It was even more difficult as he had already a transplant at age 6, almost dying and slipping in a coma two times.

As a result, he often needed to go to the hospital and getting shots.

One time, he had witnessed Mimi stabbing John with a needle full of some kind of medicine he needed.

The boy had once joked he could be a doctor, with his big knowledge of medicines and the way someone had to take them.

"How are you feeling?" asked softly Paul, voice a whisper as he looked into the older one's face.

John shrugged, "I'm feeling… Well, I'm not good, but I'm not really bad. Stable, I think" he answered, before wincing. "Me head hurts, though."

Paul nodded sympathetically.

"C'mon, Paulie. Lay down with me" cheered the auburn haired one, patting the spot next to him with a bandaged hand.

At Paul's look, he shook his head a little, "I putted another tube into my hand. For the meds, y'know?" 

In reality, it was for hydration, but what Paul didn't know couldn't hurt him, could it?

Paul nodded, toeing off his shoes and jumping into the bed.

He smiled, engulfing John into his arms, more careful than usual to not jostle anything John was attached to and to not hurt him, since he was so thin he looked like he was going to break at the smallest pressure on his body.

He felt the boy relax against him, a cold face burying into his neck, too thin arms wrapping around him.

Paul's eyes were burning with unshed tears and he bit down on his bottom lip, willing the tears away.

He wouldn't cry.

John was the brave one, the one who had to go through painful and invasive procedures and strong medicines, who often would knock him out for a while.

John was born with a rare genetic disease, a serious thing, that had bothered him as long as he could remember.

The only thing that could save him, probably, was a transplant.

John didn't remember a time where there wasn't any pain, where he wasn't always tired, even if he slept for more than 10 hours. He didn't even remember a time where he wasn't dependent on someone or where he had to take tons of medicines.

When he wasn't bound to a bed.

Well, he had become bedridden only a short time ago, maybe some months.

Until a few months ago, he could still walk around, go out with his friends, have somewhat of a normal life.

But now, even that little independence he had was gone.

His legs were very weak, so weak they couldn't even held his weight for a long time.

That day, he had even wetted his bed, his body so tired, so weak, it hadn't been able to hold anything.

He remembered falling into a deep, restless sleep and woke up completely soaked, Mimi gently cleaning him up.

He had then cried, curled up into his aunt's arms, until he had cried himself to sleep.

And then he had woken up again, when Paul had came in.

He sighed, snuggling his face closer to Paul's, sitting up and Paul sat up too, grabbing his hand.

"Mimi gave me some food" he announced, picking up the tray and setting it onto John's covered the legs.

The older boy made a face, making the younger one roll his eyes, "Don't make that face, mister. You need to eat!"

"I do not!"

"Yes, you do! I can feel yer ribs under your shirt!"

"I'm naturally thin!"

"Eat, Lennon"

"No, McCartney"

"Lennon…"

"McCartney…"

The two kept staring at each other in silence, until they both cracked up, starting laughing loudly.

Finally, still giggling, John grabbed the spoon and started eating, very slowly, but at least he was putting something into his system.

He had lost some weight in recent times.

Paul kept looking at him sadly, hugging him close and patting his bed hair, calmly waiting for him to finish eating.

The plate wasn't completely empty, when he announced he wasn't hungry anymore, but Paul wasn't going to fight him.

The medicines always made him lose appetite.

They both laid down again and started talking, still close to one another, talking about anything in particular.

Paul told John that George and Ringo missed him a lot at school, and John had told him that they did come to visit him a couple of times during the week, and that he also missed them too.

Slowly, still half over the argument of whatever their French teacher was pregnant or not, they both fell asleep, legs intertwined and heads close to each other.

-.-.-.-

Paul woke up suddenly, like something had pulled him out of his dream.

He sat up, rubbing his eyes tiredly, when he realized something. He wasn't in his room, but he was at John's.

He looked around, but the bed was empty beside him, the covers pulled down.

He had probably woken up by a chill or something.

He was about to lay down yet again, when a sound caught his ear.

Feeling a lump in his throat, he managed to get up and walked out of the bedroom and into the bathroom, where horrible retching sounds were coming from.

He froze at the door at the sight.

John was kneeling on the hard tiles floor, crying.  
Blood, vomit and spit traveling down his chin as he spluttered and coughed into the toilet bowl; behind him, Mimi was tightly holding him upwards.

If she left the hold on his limbs, Paul thought, John would have probably fallen face first to the floor.

John was crying, his back convulsing with the force of the sobs, clinging to Mimi with all his -not much- strength.

Paul wanted to move, wanted to run over him and hold him tight, but his feet were glued to the floor.

He watched as Mimi wiped delicately his mouth with a wad of paper, before slowly and carefully picking him up; handling him the carefulness you would hold a delicate china doll or a newborn.

He stepped aside, following Mimi back in the room.

He decided to not climb back into bed, standing wax-faced to the side, tears brimming his big eyes, ready to fall at the soonest moment possible.

There was a gentle hissing sound, Paul's eyes widening slightly, but he didn't move, standing there by the side, even as he should have gone away, to let John have his privacy.

But he stayed, looking as Mimi changed him into a new pair of pants and trousers, after having wiped him up quietly, talking about every relaxing thing she could think of.

"I'm...I'm scared" admitted the boy with a small voice, eyes shining with tears, the soft light coming from the bedside lamp casting dark shadows onto his gaunt face.

"Don't be, love" she whispered, leaning down to kiss his forehead, in a way so full of tenderness and maternal love.

"I love you, Johnny" she whispered with a last clasp of her hand.

After that, she quickly left and Paul could swear there were tears brimming her eyes as she quickly escaped.

He walked close to bed, feeling a lump forming in his throat.

Suddenly, he was 14 yet again, seeing his mother for what was going to be the very last time.

"Hey" he muttered.

John looked up with some difficulties, his eyes slightly glassy and watery.

"Hey…" he weakly whispered back, a mere small sound, that if it wasn't for the deafening sound of the room he wouldn't have heard it.

"So…that's a goodbye, then" he said with a bittersweet chuckle.

"John, don't-"

"What? It's true…i'm dying. Know it since days ago, actually" he said, sounding so tired.

Paul just wanted to hug him as close as physical possible.

"I love you, Johnny. I have so much beautiful memories of you…You're the strongest person I ever met…" now Paul couldn't hold back his tears anymore.

"Don't cry, love. Whenever you miss me, just look at the sky. I will always be there to bug you, y'know?" he muttered, chuckling very weakly now.

Paul could now see the struggle he was in, just for breath.

"I...I love you, Paulie. Always have and always will…" he was now completely out of breath, struggling to keep his eyes open anymore.

"I...I know. I'll always love you…"

Just before his very eyes, the steady rise and fall of his chest started diminished, until it was almost nonexistent.

It stopped.

The dark haired boy barely managed to walk downstairs, where Mimi had busied herself in the kitchen.

She looked at him, his eyes betraying everything, and she just broke down crying, her wails mixing to Paul's.

The two just hugged each other, crying for their lost boy.

Their boy, who had battled so much trough his short life and that was now finally at peace.

.-.-.-.

He hadn't stopped crying for all the funeral, tightly clutching his father's hand.

He could see Mimi just two rows in front of him, crying slumped over some other woman, probably one of her many sisters.

As he walked out of the church, he tripped on basically thin air.

His eyes widened, still full of tears.

He could have sworn to have heard the words, 'Don't cry, Macca. I'm here'

He looked around, but no one's was there.

He looked up at the sky, suddenly feeling more relaxed.

"You were right, my Johnny" he whispered towards the sky, "You'll always be up there, bugging me. See you when the time has come, my great friend."

And with that, Paul McCartney walked away, still grieving, but knowing that John was still there, in his heart.

**Author's Note:**

> Leave a kudo and a comment to let me know your opinion on the story!
> 
> Love, Seviel
> 
> P.S. If you're following my other two fics I'm currently writing, don't worry, updates for the both of them will come soon!


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